Redhawk Caldera A greatness at the cost of goodness

Before turning back to face his feathered foe, Peregrine stage-whispered to Fox, "Isn't it weird that they have a ballsack-vagina coming out of their faces...?" Cackling, he then faced forward again. His haunches coiled beneath him and the turkey gobbled in alarm the second before he sprang forward.

He closed the distance between himself and the turkey even as it spread its wings and began to beat the air with them. Peregrine ignored this display, opening his jaws to seize that great big, juicy breast. Naturally, he took punishment from all sides as soon as his teeth dug into the supple flesh. The bird pecked at the bridge of his muzzle, flailed at him from either side with its wings and kicked up its claws to dig at his forelegs.

There were only two courses of action he could take: Peregrine could either release it and leap backward or... with a savage growl, he began to shake the stupid turkey. He practically broke his neck in the process—the thing had to weigh a couple dozen pounds—but he did manage to yank it off its feet. It dragged across the ground, still squawking and pumping its wings, yet he did not let go.

When one of the wings began striking him in the face, he closed his eyes, snarled again and surged forward to pin the thing to the ground, then shake it back and forth. In doing so, he partially crushed it, then ripped open its breast. Finally, he let go with a gasp. He could've gone after its scrote-throat neck, though he knew the job was finished. He backed off several paces while he waited for the turkey to bleed out and die.

In the meantime, he trotted over to his mate, his tongue darting out to lick the blood—his and the turkey's—off his scratched muzzle. "How'd I do, Mrs. Redleaf-DiSarinno?" he asked as he playfully swaggered around his tiny mate.